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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25194379">Know the Lion by His Claws</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DachOsmin/pseuds/DachOsmin'>DachOsmin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Lex Talionis [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Captivity, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, Enemy Lovers, Forced Marriage, Guilt, Hate Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Misunderstandings, Spit As Lube</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:07:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,909</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25194379</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DachOsmin/pseuds/DachOsmin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In the wake of his wedding to Robb Stark, Jaime fights to protect Robb from the rest of the Lannisters… and from himself.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jaime Lannister/Robb Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Lex Talionis [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1825138</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>163</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Know the Lion by His Claws</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On the day after his wedding to Robb Stark, Jaime Lannister woke with a raging hangover, stickiness between his legs, and an ache in the hollow of his chest.</p><p>He blinked his eyes open to see the weak light streaming in through the window and cringed at the sudden onslaught of pounding in his head.</p><p>He turned, meaning to fumble the chamber pot closer—and froze when he saw he was not alone. Of course. Robb Stark. He swallowed the sour taste in his mouth. His husband.</p><p>The boy shifted, and suddenly those long eyelashes were fluttering open.</p><p>Jaime saw the confusion in his eyes, and then the sudden stiffening of his limbs once he remembered where he was.</p><p>It shouldn’t have hurt, but it did.</p><p>Jaime tamped down his own feelings of anger at the situation; Gods knew Robb had more reason for pain than he did. A handful of days ago he’d been a king leading an army. Now he was a captive deep in enemy territory, made to warm Jaime’s bed in a mockery of marriage. And it hardly mattered that Jaime hadn’t wanted it, didn’t want it, that this was all Twyin’s idea, stamped with Joffrey’s approval—to Robb Lannisters were all one and the same: hungry lions with open maws.</p><p>But even so, Jaime still resented the discomfort of sharing his bed with the boy, and hated himself for it. <em>You didn’t mind sharing your bed with him last night</em>, an ugly little voice reminded him. <em>You fucked him like a dockside whore, and you loved it even though he cried.</em></p><p>Jaime told the voice to go hang itself. “Good morning, husband,” he said as blandly as he could manage.</p><p>Robb stared at him.</p><p>Jaime cleared his throat, tried again. “I have business to attend to today. I’ll be back at nightfall, see to it that you’re back here by then as well.”</p><p>“I…I can go out,” Robb said slowly, as if testing the boards of a rotting staircase.</p><p>Jaime blinked and turned back to him. “You could hardly have expected me to keep you chained up in my bed all day.”</p><p>Robb stared resolutely at the floor. He had, Jaime realized with a sinking feeling. That’s exactly what he’d expected.</p><p>Jaime fought down the bitterness rising in his throat. “I have no intention of cooping you like a chicken.” There was more he wanted to say, promises of safety and peace and comfort—but they were all of them promises he could not keep, and Robb would know them false if he were to speak them. “Tell me if there is something you want, and I will do my best to give it to you if it is within my power.”</p><p>Robb frowned and picked at the embroidery on the coverlet. He wanted something; Jaime could tell. But asking would expose a weakness, would signal to Jaime something that could be withheld from him. Because of course Jaime would pounce on the smallest weakness and exploit it, why would he not?</p><p>“Speak, boy,” he barked.</p><p>Robb looked up, and his eyes were over-bright. “May I visit my sister?”</p><p>***</p><p>“No, said Tywin without looking away from his ledgers.</p><p>Jaime shifted his feet, wondering why he still felt like a wayward schoolboy whenever he stood before his father’s desk. “She’s hardly a threat—“</p><p>Tywin slapped his quill down on the desk with an audible crack before deigning to look up at Jaime. “She’ll slip him poison and then run herself through with a bread knife,” he said matter of factly, as if he were discussing the weather. “I’ll not have it.”</p><p>Jaime blinked. “That’s—she’s barely more than a child, I don’t think—“</p><p>Tywin raised an eyebrow. “She’s a wolf, and he is too. You’d do well to remember that. They’re vicious things; nothing is beneath them.”</p><p>Beneath them. The image came unbidden: Robb splayed out beneath him, sweat-soaked and panting, eyes clenched shut and mouth wide open.</p><p>He winced. “May I visit the girl at least?”</p><p>“If you must,” Tywin said, already looking back to his ledgers. “Don’t get her with child, if you can help it.”</p><p>Jaime swallowed the first response that came to mind, and the second as well. He allowed himself a moment to rein in his temper, then offered his father a tight smile and a shallow bow. “As my lord commands.”</p><p>He left without looking back, his pace unceasing until he found his way out of his father’s tower and paused to lean against the rough-hewn wall of the keep, staring down at the half-moons dotting his palms where his nails had dug into his skin.</p><p>For want of anything better to do, he went to see the Lady Sansa. The visit proved to be not as unpleasant as the one he’d had with Twyin, but only just.</p><p>Sansa received him with downcast eyes and rigid formality. Tywin had seen fit to appoint her with chambers comprised of a small solar and a bower; she bid Jaime sit in the single chair of the solar while she stood standing, hugging her arms to her chest. “Thank you for visiting, Ser Jaime. It’s an honor.”</p><p>Gods, why had he decided to talk to her? “Your brother is well,” he said. “You will have heard that we are married now.”</p><p>“I’m sure Robb is very grateful,” she said. “It’s more than he deserves.”</p><p>As lies went it was a bad one. Robb deserved so much more than the bitter marriage bed Jaime had forced him into. Robb deserved only sweet things: reverent hands worshipping his body, kisses pressed to the join of his limbs, love and joy. Jaime imagined Robb rolling in bedsheets with someone that loved him, his head thrown back in laughter. How beautiful he would look.</p><p>Jaime cleared his throat and resolutely banished his thoughts. “He sends you his good wishes, and would be happy to hear from you.”</p><p>“He’s a traitor,” Sansa said in a dull monotone, and turned away from him. “I have nothing to say to him.”</p><p>It was a clear dismissal. Jaime took his leave with a bow, shutting her door behind him.</p><p>She had stared at the floor the entire time.</p><p>***</p><p>Jaime busied himself with various other tasks for the rest of the day: a visit to the cobbler was in order, and the chandler, and the hostler.</p><p>But at last there was nothing else he could busy himself with, no excuses left to keep him from facing his new bride.</p><p>It was well into night when he arrived back at the keep, and the halls were quiet. He walked the corridors to his chamber with nothing but the play of torchlight over the flagstones and his own harried thoughts for company. When he arrived at his door he hesitated.</p><p>He didn’t want to face Robb. He found himself praying that they boy was asleep, and almost laughed aloud. The fearsome Kingslayer, terror to children across the Seven Kingdoms, afraid of a handsome youth in his bed.</p><p>The thought girded him; he reached out to push the door open, wincing when the hinges groaned.</p><p>He slipped inside and shut the door quietly behind him. Looking around, he felt a rush of relief when he saw all but a lone candle on the nightstand had been doused, and the only sign of someone else’s presence in the room was a still lump beneath the coverlet.</p><p>Jaime unbuckled his armor with a sigh and stripped down to his smallclothes. He tiptoed over the freezing cobblestones to the bed, eased back the coverlet, and slipped between the sheets.</p><p>The movement must have jostled Robb; he shifted and lifted his head, blinking over at Jaime through a haze of sleep. Jaime tamped down the irrational urge to brush a stray curl away from his eyes.</p><p>Jaime could tell the moment he woke in truth, the moment he remembered who Jaime was. He froze, his muscles tensing and his face blanching. His eyes darted down to Jaime’s naked chest and then away.</p><p>“Your sister is well,” Jaime said brusquely. “But you aren’t to visit her.” He paused. “On my father’s orders,” he felt compelled to add.</p><p>A barely imperceptible nod of acknowledgement. If Robb felt anything by this, he gave no sign of it. A fear of showing weakness to the enemy, perhaps. Or else he was too wrung out to grieve.</p><p>Jaime reached over to pull the covers up; Robb flinched.</p><p>Jaime frowned; what had he thought—oh. “Gods,” he snapped, lying back down and turning to face the other way. “You can rest without fearing I’ll bugger you in your sleep. I don’t fuck unwilling men.”</p><p>But of course, both of them knew that he did.</p><p>***</p><p>Jaime woke to warmth and softness. He smiled, reveling in the feel of skin against his bare chest and nuzzling his beard against his bedfellow’s neck. He rolled his hips slightly, gratified at the feel of a smoothly muscled thigh against his erection.</p><p>His companion did not return his embrace.</p><p>A muzzy question began to assert itself, and Jaime lifted his head slightly, blinking his eyes open. <em>Who</em>?</p><p><em>Oh, no. Oh no, no, no.</em> Robb was already awake and lying frozen in place, limbs rigid at his sides. His eyes were wrenched shut, but his lips were moving, as if in silent prayer.</p><p>Jaime threw himself away from Robb like his skin was on fire. In the process he managed to entangle himself in the bedsheets and fall from the mattress, landing on the cold flagstones with a curse. It would have been funny under other circumstances. Neither of them laughed.</p><p>“Old habits,” Jaime said at last, picking himself up from the floor. He couldn’t meet Robb’s eyes. “In the future, feel free to push me away.”</p><p>“Yes, my lord,” Robb murmured, and Jaime nodded brusquely before fleeing to the privy.</p><p>They slipped into a chilly rhythm in the days that followed. Robb disappeared during the day, slipping out to wander the keep. Oh, he was watched, Jaime knew his father kept spies on him. He could have asked Varys and he’d have told him exactly where the boy went and what he got up to during the day. But something about it would have smacked of a betrayal, and so he kept his peace. He had taken enough from Robb. Let him have his days in solace.</p><p>Nights were spent in silence, each of them huddled on opposite sides of the bed until sleep came. There were no more morning embraces, whether because Jaime was too terrified to roll over in his sleep or because Robb was shoving away his unwelcome advances, Jaime couldn’t say.</p><p>On the seventh night after they were wed, Robb did not return to their rooms.</p><p>Jaime had come back early for once, thinking that they might eat together, and perhaps he could bully Robb into telling him if he needed anything that Jaime could give him.</p><p>But the sun went down and the moon rose, and Robb was nowhere to be seen. Jaime waited by the fireplace in his chambers, holding but not reading a book, staring at the door. At last, well into the night, he concluded that Robb was not planning on returning. Had the boy merely lost track of time, or had he tried to escape?</p><p>The anger came, then. That Robb was disobeying him—he didn’t care about that; he’d have done the same. But if his father’s men heard of this, there would be consequences that Jaime couldn’t shield him from. Jaime would be punished, of course. But more importantly, Robb had endangered his own health and well-being, and more bitterly still, that of his sister. Had he thought of that? Had he thought of what steps Twyin would take, to lock the girl up more completely? Likely not.</p><p>Images of Robb languishing in his father’s jail cells danced in his head. Jaime had to find him before Tywin did. Flinging the book to the ground, he stood and strode for the door, before pausing in indecision. Where to look, where to look?</p><p>The answer, when it came, was so obvious that he despaired that it had taken him so long to think of it. <em>Sansa. </em>With a curse he exited the room and took off at a jog across the keep.</p><p>He reached her chambers a few minutes later and hammered his fist against the door until he heard the latch release on the other side. The door opened a crack, and Sansa peered out at him, her eyes wide in the candlelight.</p><p>“Where is he?” Jaime snarled, his vehemence surprising him.</p><p>She made no mention of the late hour or the impropriety of his visit, only tilted her head like a puzzled bird. “Who, my lord?”</p><p>“Your brother,” he snapped. “Robb.”</p><p>She was once again avoiding his eyes. “I was under the impression he slept in your chambers, my lord.”</p><p>“I was under that impression as well. But the hour is late, and he is not in my chambers, and the list of other chambers I thought to find him in begins and ends with yours.”</p><p>Sansa swallowed. “I’ve not seen him, my lord.”</p><p>She was a very good liar. So good that Jaime might have even fallen for her act—had he not seen the shadowed forms of men’s boots resting against the far wall of the chamber.</p><p>“I’ve not seen him,” Sansa repeated. “Perhaps if you came back in the morning…”</p><p>Oh, they’d like that, wouldn’t they? “I think not,” he said, and swept past her into the solar. It was dark; he saw no sign of Robb but his boots. Perhaps in her bower?</p><p>She trailed after him, wringing her hands. “This is—this is highly improper—at such an hour—and with no chaperone—"</p><p>“Oh come now, Lady Sansa,” he said as he wrenched open the door to her bower, offering her a mocking smile. “You’ve nothing to fear from me; I’m a married man.”</p><p>She was saying something in reply—more lies, most likely—but he ignored her. All his attentions were on the hillock beneath her coverlet, and the thin curls of auburn hair splayed across her pillow.</p><p>He moved with a snarl, ripping back the coverlet to see that it was indeed Robb, curled up and fast asleep in his sister’s bed. He reached out to grab Robb’s shoulder and shake him awake, accusations and recriminations ready on his tongue—</p><p>—And froze when Robb tossed his head in his sleep so that Jaime could see the blood crusting his forehead, the swelling at his eye, the dark purple mottling across the plane of his cheek.</p><p>Jaime froze. “Who did this?” he croaked.</p><p>Sansa moved quietly, with no fuss, to place herself between him and Robb. “I couldn’t say, my lord.” A flicker of some emotion passed over her face, or perhaps it was only a trick of the candlelight.</p><p>Jaime tasted something bitter in the back of his throat, like sour wine. “You thought I did it.”</p><p>Sansa’s eyes darted from side to side, as if she were a wild hart looking for some avenue of escape. “I’m sure you had a good reason, my lord.”</p><p>“I didn’t do it.”</p><p>“As you say, my lord.”</p><p>He wanted to throw something. Instead, he let out a shaky breath. “Are any bones broken?”</p><p>“No,” she whispered.</p><p>He gave her a curt nod and then shifted his attentions back to Robb. He peeled back the coverlet, wincing at what he saw. Bloody knuckles, and hose torn at the knees. The boy had been in a fight, and lost badly.</p><p>He leaned down and slipped one of his arms beneath Robb’s shoulders, and then the other beneath his knees, cringing when Robb whimpered in his sleep. As gently as he could manage, he scooped Robb’s limp body up from the bed, holding him so that Robb’s head lolled against his chest.</p><p>He paused in the doorway and looked back at Sansa. “I’ll send for you on the morrow, if you wish to see him.”</p><p>Sansa bit her lip. “Your father will be displeased, my lord.”</p><p>Robb was heavy in his hands, but his own heart felt heavier still. “My father,” he said, “doesn’t need to know.”</p><p>***</p><p>Once back his own chambers, he laid Robb out on his bed and got to work cataloging and tending to the idiot boy’s hurts.</p><p>He had to cut Robb’s shirt off to tend to the cuts on his arms; he couldn’t help that his gaze lingered on the trail of hair leading down into the boy’s breeches, and hated himself for it.</p><p>Luckily none of Robb’s injuries were particularly bad: whoever had done this had used fists instead of knives. The cuts on his arms were consistent with fingernails or the scrape of gravel in the wake of a fall. More worrying were the smatterings of bruises on his face, over his shoulders, and down his back; they painted a grim picture.</p><p>Robb had fought, and been forced to the ground. His attackers had kicked him over and over; he had curled in on himself to protect the soft parts of his body.</p><p>It was a struggle to keep his hands gentle as he readied his salves and ointments. His hands itched to do violence, to repay this. He settled for ripping a linen rag into bandages with more vehemence than the task required. It would have to suffice until the boy woke, and could point him to whoever had done this.</p><p>But until then, all he could attend to was the task before him. He set to work with the salve, rubbing it gently over each of Robb’s bruises. Then he moved on to the cuts, dousing them with wine and wrapping them with the linen rags.</p><p>As he bandaged the worst of the cuts, he heard a wet cough, and realized that Robb had woken at some point and was now watching him work. He secured the bandage he was working on and braced himself for more icy silence. But instead, Robb let out a half-chuckle, half-cough, and let his head fall back against the pillow. “The legendary Kingslayer, naught more than a nursemaid.”</p><p>He snorted. “I’ve nursed men on the battlefield much closer to death than you, boy.”</p><p>Robb was silent, and Jaime moved on to the next scrape, a long and nasty gash on Robb’s inner forearm. “So,” he asked as he doused the cut with wine, “what happened?”</p><p>Robb hissed at the sting of the alcohol, bunching his hands into fists at his sides. “I fell down.”</p><p>“Did you, now?” Jaime asked with a raised eyebrow. “Did someone help you, perhaps?”</p><p>Silence. Jaime wiped away the excess wine and wrapped Robb’s forearm in another strip of cloth. “I’m not sure why you wouldn’t tell me,” he said at last. “I’m the only person in this godsforsaken keep that has your best interests at heart other than your sister, and she can’t do a damn thing for you.”</p><p>“I. fell. down,” Robb bit out.</p><p>Jaime sighed, and let the matter rest.</p><p>***</p><p>The next morning, Jaime’s brother found him on the tourney grounds on the morrow, beating a straw mannikin to a pulp in the dirt with a practice sword.</p><p>Tyrion stood outside the ring, leaning easily against the fencing as he watched Jaime deal blow after blow after blow to his hapless opponent. Jaime didn’t deign to address him; he had no space in him for small talk or games today. He was too brim-full with frustration.</p><p>But Tyrion didn’t deal him a quip, at least not at first. He watched Jaime for a few minutes before speaking, and when he did, his voice was soft. “Heard your boy is a bit peaked today.”</p><p>It was wrong, the way something inside him twisted when Tyrion called Robb “his boy.” He forced the feeling down. “You heard?</p><p>Tyrion snorted. “The whole keep heard.”</p><p>Jaime dealt the head of the mannikin another blow, wishing it was made of blood and bone rather than straw. A puff of straw fell from a hole in the side; Jaime watched as it drifted to the ground. “He thinks I ordered it,” he said at last.</p><p>Tyrion shifted slightly. “Ahh.” A pause. “Well, did you?”</p><p>Oh for—"No!” Jaime exploded, flinging his sword to into the dirt as he turned to face his brotehr. “Why does everyone keep asking that?”</p><p>“It seems like—"</p><p>“—something I would do?”</p><p>Tyrion’s eyes softened. “Only to someone that didn’t know you.”</p><p>So, pretty much everyone, then. Gods, how had he not drowned in his own bitterness yet? Would that he were the callous villain everyone thought he was; then the opinions of others might not sting as they did. Clenching his teeth, he leaned down and retrieved his sword out of the dirt.</p><p>Tyrion watched him, an opaque expression on his face. “I probably shouldn’t tell you,” he said at last, “but for what it’s worth: it was two of the guards on the ramparts last night: Reimund and Aseldorf. Their family lives on the North’s doorstep; I hear they lost kin fighting the boy’s army.”</p><p>Well. A good enough reason to beat up a defenseless captive, as reasons went. Unluckily for them, Jaime didn’t particularly care about how valid their reasons were. He abandoned the mannikin with a terse nod to Tyrion. There were better things to hit.</p><p>***</p><p>He stalked back into his rooms later that afternoon with bloody knuckles and a heart half as heavy as it had been that morning. “I’ve had words with the watchmen,” he said when Robb lifted his head from his pillow. “It won’t happen again.”</p><p>Robb glanced at the blood on Jaime’s fists and swallowed. “What words?”</p><p>There had in fact been words exchanged, at least before the punches began. Most of them had been unpleasant, but still. “I made it clear that you’re under my protection,” he said, and began to wipe the blood from his hands with a rag.</p><p>Robb’s face was a mask. “Why?”</p><p>Jaime was suddenly tired of everyone around him questioning his motives all the time. “Out of the goodness of my fucking heart. Why do you think?”</p><p>***</p><p>The next day was a holy day with its requisite feast in the great hall, and Robb insisted on attending.</p><p>Jaime knew it for a bad idea from the start: Robb’s face was still a mess of bruises and scabbing, and though Robb claimed he had no pain, Jaime knew it for a lie. He could see Robb’s suffering in the stiffness of his movements as they walked to the great hall, and again in his wince when he sat down at the high table at Jaime’s side. Jaime made to slice his meat for him, but Robb batted his hand away. “I’m fine,” he muttered with ill grace, and proceeded to mangle the cutting himself.</p><p>Well then, there were worse things than being stubborn; and despite himself Jaime was glad to see it. More worrisome was the fact that Robb was drinking like a fish. Jaime watched over the course of the dinner, growing increasingly concerned as Robb filled and drained and filled and drained his goblet with dashes of arbor red. The wine brought a flush to his fair cheeks and stained his lips berry-red. His limbs grew clumsy and his breathing thick.</p><p>Jaime watched as Robb struggled to stab at a caper rolling about his trencher. “We should leave,” he murmured.</p><p>Robb pressed his mouth into a mulish frown. “Don’t want to.”</p><p>Down the table, the king let out a vicious little giggle. “Uncle, shall we put your disobedient wife in the stocks? She might learn some manners that way.”</p><p>Not for the first time, Jaime wondered how no one has slit the boy-king’s throat yet. “An interesting suggestion,” he said with an insincere smile that no doubt went right over the boy’s head. “But no need: we’re leaving presently.”</p><p>“Don’t want to,” Robb murmured again, staring at the table as he swayed slightly from side to side.</p><p>“That’s just too bad,” Jaime bit back as he looped an arm under Robb’s shoulder and pulled him unceremoniously to his feet.</p><p>“But—”</p><p>“<em>Now</em>, Robb.”</p><p>He guided Robb away from the table, pressing their sides together so that Robb had some support as he drunkenly stumbled over the flagstones. Where their bodies were pressed together, Jaime could feel the heat of Robb’s skin burning through his clothes.</p><p>Laughter echoed from the great hall as they left.</p><p>***</p><p>The walk back to his chambers was enough to try Jaime’s patience; the storied northern swordsmen seemed to have somehow acquired two left feet somewhere between drinks five and six.</p><p>By the time they reached the door, Jaime was ready to deposit Robb in bed and go back for another drink or six himself. He didn’t get the chance: as he closed the door behind him, Robb was on him. His chest pressed up against Jaime’s as he shoved Jaime against the wall; his hands, clumsy with drink, tangled in Jaime’s hair. His mouth was hot and wet with wine as he pressed sloppy kisses to the side of Jaime’s mouth.</p><p>Jaime was weak: he let Robb kiss him for a moment, sharp and bittersweet, before pushing him away. “You don’t want to do this.”</p><p>Robb stumbled backwards, his lips shiny and red, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “Can you only get it up when you hit me, then?” he snarled.</p><p>Jaime wasn’t an idiot; he knew Robb was trying to do the same thing Jaime had done on their wedding night: goad him into a fight. Luckily for Robb, he was happy to oblige. “You think I should be panting over the likes of you?” he said with a contemptuous chuckle. “You’re going to have to try harder than that if you want to please a man.”</p><p>“<em>Fuck </em>you,” Robb spat, and shoved his knee between Jaime’s legs hard, swallowing Jaime’s curse with a savage bite on his lower lip. “I <em>know</em> you want this.”</p><p>“And you don’t,” Jaime snapped.</p><p>Robb reached down to palm the front of Jaime’s breeches, and let out a bitter laugh when he felt the hardness of Jaime’s cock, traitor that it was. “Like you give a flying fuck what I want.”</p><p>Jaime resisted the urge to thrust into Robb’s hand, but he could tell that Robb saw the struggle on his face all the same. “Been thinking of this, haven’t you?” Robb hissed, palming at Jaime’s cock again. “Thought you’d bandage me up and get me to roll onto my back for you, all grateful-like?”</p><p>Oh, so that’s what was going on in the fool boy’s brain. Jaime had to have healed him with some sinister motive in mind. With a snarl, he reached down and palmed Robb’s own cock in retaliation. It was hard as well. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” he said with a mocking twist. “If you’re that eager to take my cock, you should’ve just said so—”</p><p>Growling, Robb took both of Jaime’s shoulders in his clumsy hands and shoved him, hard. Jaime stumbled sideways, only to let out an indignant yell when Robb slammed himself into Jaime’s stomach, sending him sprawling. Before he could get up Robb was on him, straddling his waist and aiming sloppy punches at his head. Jaime deflected the blows with ease, but there was no way to avoid or escape the sudden friction of Robb’s weight on his cock. He hissed despite himself, and Robb let out a triumphant laugh above him. “You say, you say you don’t want to fuck me but you do, I can tell,” he said, words slurring together.</p><p>“You’re drunker than a guardsman on pay day; you can’t tell a damn thing,” Jaime bit back, deflecting another of Robb’s blows.</p><p>“Oh?” Robb asked. He snapped his hips against the hardness of Jaime’s length. “<em>This</em> doesn’t lie.”</p><p>Jaime refrained from pointing out the boy’s own cockstand, now bulging obscenely at the front of his breeches. “And yet you’re the one pinning me to the floor. One would almost think <em>you</em> were the one eager for a bit of bedsport.”</p><p>Robb bared his teeth. “Maybe—maybe I’ll be the one to fuck you. So you see how it feels. So you know.”</p><p>Jaime let out a harsh laugh. “Then fuck me, if you’re man enough.”</p><p>It was easier than baiting a bear. With a snarl, Robb ripped open the laces of Jaime’s breeches and shoved them down to his knees. Then his fingers were on Jaime, shoving his thighs apart, palming at his hardening cock. The touches were clumsy and brusque, but they still set Jaime’s blood on fire like nothing else, and he rocked his hips in a desperate bid for more.</p><p>“Fuck,” Robb breathed, and began to scramble at his own lacings. His cock, when it sprang free, was perfect; Jaime needed it in him, needed it right then and there.</p><p>“Spit on your hand,” he grunted. “Unless you want to fetch the oil.”</p><p>“Like hell I’ll make this easy for you,” Robb snapped, but he spit on his palm all the same. Jaime watched as he took himself in hand, slicking his length with a shuddered moan. All the wine in Westeros hadn’t done anything to lessen his cockstand; oh to be young again.</p><p>He spat again, and this time brought his wet fingers to press at Jaime’s entrance. Here he hesitated, and Jaime could tell from the sudden lost look on his face that he had never done this before. “Press in with one finger at a time,” he murmured, taking pity on the boy. “Play at the rim, work back and forth until the way is eased.” Hesitantly, oh so hesitantly, Robb obeyed.</p><p>This would feel better with oil, fingers, and a candlemark of gentle warm-up: but this wasn’t that sort of coupling. Jaime focused on relaxing his muscles, loosening himself up enough that he might be able to take Robb’s cock without too much pain.</p><p>And perhaps with pleasure. There were worse things than being fucked by a lovely youth, and even for all the bitterness and awkwardness, Jaime’s cock was still unabashedly enthusiastic about the proceedings.</p><p>Robb crooked his finger slightly, and Jaime couldn’t help the cry that fell from his lips.</p><p>“Did I—are you hurt?”</p><p>“Gods, shut up and fuck me already,” Jaime snapped as Robb blinked down at him owlishly. He felt as if his blood were on fire, and only Robb might quench it.</p><p>Robb started, seeming to realize again that Jaime was his enemy, that there was no need for him to be tender or courteous, not now. Face hardening, he reached down to guide his member to Jaime’s entrance, and then he was pressing, inexorably, in. His face went slack, his mouth falling open. His hair was light golden in the lamplight; he looked for all the world like some holy man in the raptures of prayer, or else some fey thing made up in a dream. Gods, but he was beautiful. Jaime could have looked at him for a lifetime like this, damn the pain, damn everything.</p><p>He sunk deep, filling Jaime to the hilt, until it felt as if every part of him was being touched from the inside out. “Move, damn you.”</p><p>Robb didn’t argue; from the looks of things he was too overwhelmed by the proceedings to remember to be difficult. Instead, he gripped Jaime’s hips with shaky hands and rutted forward, driving a gasp from them both.</p><p>“Again,” Jaime bit out, and couldn’t help but cry out when Robb obeyed, docile and easy as a horse brought to bit.</p><p>Robb fucked him properly them. There was no artistry to it, and no tenderness either: everything was desperate presses and carnal lust, teeth clenched and fingers raking over skin. Before long Jaime lost the ability to goad him; it was too much and too fast; all he could do was lie back on the flagstones and take Robb’s cock, over and over and over. The pain was there, but the pleasure built and built, so that each of Robb’s hammering strokes laid waste to his defenses.</p><p>Robb came first. His mouth opened in a perfect “o”, his eyes clenched shut as his body spasmed through its peak, pumping Jaime full of seed, branding the deepest parts of him. As he came he collapsed forward, pressing their heads together, their lips together, in the first kiss they’d shared that night.</p><p>And how was it, that even with a cock in his ass and the press of hard muscle against his own member, that it was the touch of Robb’s chapped and shivering lips against his own that sent Jaime over the edge?</p><p>***</p><p>When Jaime came back to himself, he noticed two things. First, the cobblestones of the floor were terribly uncomfortable to lie on. Second, Robb was shivering next to him. Or not shivering, but crying. Robb was crying. Great, shuddery tears rolled down his face, falling on the floor to glisten in the guttering candlelight.</p><p>He turned to face the boy. “Robb…”</p><p>“I didn’t mean to—I didn’t want—"</p><p>Jaime’s stomach clenched and he resisted the urge to retch. Gods, but he shouldn’t have let this happen. He’d already hurt the boy enough, but at least on their wedding night he’d been forced to it. Tonight was on Jaime alone; there was no one else he could blame for this. Robb had offered himself up because he thought Jaime required it of him, and Jaime had happily let Robb fall on his sword. So to speak.</p><p>“I didn’t want to do it,” Robb whispered. “I’m not like you.”</p><p>The ugly part of Jaime knew exactly what to say. <em>Of course you are. We’re not so different, you and I. You wanted this. You wanted to hurt me. </em>But of course Robb was nothing like him. Robb had been stolen from his family, pent up by his enemies, and raped by a man he’d been forced to marry. And through all of it, he had only broken down when he thought he’d done the same to Jaime.</p><p>“Robb,” he said at last, “I could have pushed you off at any point, and beat you into the floor. You forced me into nothing.”</p><p>Robb did not reply, but his cries quieted.</p><p>“Even so, Jaime said, “don’t try this again.” <em>Unless you want it,</em> he almost said, but stopped himself. There would never be a time Robb wanted this, not from him. “You don’t owe me bed sport for your protection.”</p><p>Robb let out a bitter laugh. “Why did you fight the guards then, if not for this?”</p><p><em>Because it was the right thing to do</em>. Jaime bit back the words. Robb wouldn’t believe them. “You’re my husband,” he said instead. “I swore an oath.”</p><p>“An oath!” Robb exclaimed. “You of all people—“</p><p>“I broke an oath once, and though I don’t regret it, it’s caused me pain for the rest of my life. I’d not break another lightly.”</p><p>Robb did not respond, and as the moments stretched on in the dark Jaime figured he’d fallen asleep until he let out a small sigh. “I still hate you”</p><p>“You’re in luck,” Jaime murmured. “I hate myself as well.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I know I wrote the first fic over a year ago, but I always intended to write a sequel. Hopefully there are a few people that are still interested in reading one! </p><p>Any and all comments are welcome; I'd love to hear what you thought &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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